


Human Connection

by cunttwatula



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, Friends With Benefits, Healing, Kageyama is a hollerback boy, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Post-Break Up, Relationship Negotiation, Sex Before Feelings, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Romance, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-05-04 18:05:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14598678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cunttwatula/pseuds/cunttwatula
Summary: Post-break up: Kageyama finds himself trying to navigate life after having his heart stomped on, one fuck up at a time.





	1. Undone

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!
> 
> My name is Adrianna and I'm a long time proprietor of Haikyuu and the wonderful fan content that is borne from it. After deliberation, I have decided to start posting a fic I've been working on for a while. This is uncharacteristic of me, if only because my fic is still a WIP - and I almost never begin posting something that is not completed. So, yeah, I'm nervous - both because I'm doing something I don't normally do and because this is the largest fandom pairing I've ever posted to. (Where my Jearmin and Kurofai's at??? - all ten of us.)
> 
> Normally, I would put a stern warning here about how I don't tag for spoilers within my own work and how you should be responsible for policing your own media, but nothing in this fic is particularly bad. Nobody dies. Hinata and Kageyama will end up together. Neither of them have overly tragic triggery pasts. So.... this is new for me all around!

Kageyama leans over the rail of his fire escape and gazes down at the street. The sounds of the people standing outside his building float up to greet him, much like the sticky heat that presses up against his body. His fingers drum impatiently against the railing as he contemplates opening the pack of cigarettes sitting on the stairs. It’s a nasty habit that he’s been trying to kick since he started a little over nine months ago. It’s not like he  _ needs  _ a cigarette, it’s just that having one would help with the stress and there’s so much of that since the announcement of his position on the national volleyball team.

Contrary to what he would have believed as a child, volleyball is not a popular sport. Sure, there are fans and sponsors, but it’s not set in tradition and lacks the same amount of global recognition that other sports have. That being said, being a professional sports player had never really impeded on his everyday life until very recently. 

The whole idea of nationalism comes about every four years when the world starts gearing up for the Olympics. There is a surge of recognition that travels through the country bringing otherwise unknown athletes to the limelight. This is where Kageyama finds himself, somewhere on the cusp of celebrity. 

There’s the endlessly repetitive interviews, the photoshoots, the public practices that aren’t really practices at all, the signings, the fund raisers, and all of that would have been _ fine  _ if it hadn’t started to affect his daily life! Now he’s unwilling to step outside his building for fear of being mauled. The women are the worst. Men generally want a picture that they can show off on social media, but women have this terrible way of making him crawl out of his skin with their advances that are disguised as innocent inquiries. It really doesn’t even come down to gender, the fact of the matter is that he’s terrible at dealing with attention, or compliments, or people for that matter. 

The public recognition has gotten so terrible in the last month that Kageyama can’t even entertain the idea of leaving his apartment unless he’s heavily disguised and uses the service entrance or his part time bodyguard, the one his manager, Tsukishima, insisted on for public events, comes to get him. He’s been assured by the few returning players that it will only get worse after the olympics, but will die down after about a year, if he’s lucky. 

All these circumstances bring Kageyama to this moment. Just a few minutes ago he’d been on the phone with his manager who insists that Kageyama needs to move to a more secure building. A point that Kageyama and him have been fighting about for weeks. This is  _ his  _ apartment. He’d bought it, along with the rent control agreement, with his first paycheck from going pro. It hadn’t been a ton of money, but it had certainly been more money than he had ever seen at that point in his life. He’s been here for the better part of two years and it’s comfortable. His favorite ramen shop is half a block away, the family that runs the nearby convenience store knows him, running from his building to the park and back is exactly fifteen kilometers, and the old lady down the hall needs his help bringing up that giant bag of cat food once a month. He has a life in this apartment, and frankly he doesn’t want to change that. 

The life in question may be boring, and entirely to focused on volleyball, and not very social, but those are his decisions. He doesn’t need a new building with more security, what he needs if for the people down below to get a clue and leave him the fuck alone.

One won’t hurt. Kageyama pushes back from railing and sits on the stairs, he digs deep in his pocket and finds his lighter. He places the cigarette in his mouth and leans forward into his cupped hand. The flame begins the burn the paper, but Kageyama loses grip on the lighter just when there’s a sudden crashing sound above him. His first instinct it that something is falling so he springs off the stairs towards the building. He’s breathing heavy, the cigarette lost to the fire escape below him. He looks around and doesn’t see that anything in his immediate area has changed, so he stands as a humorous relief comes over him. It’s once he’s standing that he sees the dangling sock clad foot, he can’t help the surprised yelp that escapes him.

“Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.” The leg tries to retract and stops only for more wails of discomfort to come through. “Shit,” Kageyama hears the owner of the leg say and then he’s moving to help.

“What the fuck are you doing dumbass?” He moves up the stairs against the wall and rounds the ones facing the street. There he sees a young man, probably around his age, but short as fuck, sprawled out over a few different stairs. His right leg has fallen between the stairs and his whole body leans downwards over the next three steps. He’s supporting his body weight with his hands on the last of these steps. “Ah, shit.”

The guy is trying to say something, but the words are breathy from shock. Kageyama comes up to him and lifts from under the guy’s arms in order to pull him back upright. “Ow! Stop! My body won’t go up that way, my  _ knee _ is locked between the steps. And you called  _ me _ a dumbass?”

Kageyama tightens his grip. “Then what do you suggest if you’re so much smarter than me?”

“Um,” his voice is still strained. “Try twisting me? Slowly! That way my body weight won’t be keeping my knee locked against the stair.”

Kageyama does as told, the action is met by hissing from the new found nuisance, but no objections. The adjustment helps, he can see the man’s knee relax and he pulls him slowly until his leg is free from the stairs. They both sit on the small landing between Kageyama’s apartment and the upstairs unit panting, more from the suddenness of the event and less from  _ actual  _ physical exertion.

He glances at the knee from the corner of his eyes, there’s no bleeding but there is definitely inflammation. The guy pokes at it and hisses. After a moment he looks to Kageyama, “Any chance you want to help me back up to my apartment?”

“Your apartment?”

“Yeah,” a nod. “I just started moving in today. Heard you outside and thought I’d say ‘Hi,’ since we’re fire escape neighbors.” He explains as if Kageyama hasn’t already come to that conclusion on his own - which, okay, maybe he  _ hadn’t,  _ but he would have!

Kageyama looks back up the stairs, there’s no way his new neighbor is going to be able to get up them by himself. “Yeah. Fine.”

His neighbor is already trying to stand on his own, using the railing as support. Kageyama gets up quickly, puts an arm around his back to help shoulder some of the guys weight. To be quite honest, he could probably carry him considering how small he looks, but he’s not about to go out of his way that much. He can feel his neighbor looking at him, “Did you really call me a dumbass?”

“Shut up.”

They make it up the stairs and hobble over to the window where Kageyama deposits him on the window sill. The silence is awkward without the immediate reason of  _ help  _ to justify their interaction. “Uh, you should probably get ice on that.”

His neighbor frowns. “I don’t have anything in my fridge yet. I got takeout for dinner, I was just about to eat when I heard you.”

Kageyama sighs, his hand drops from where it had been rubbing his neck. “I’ll be right back.” He goes back to his apartment and grabs a few ice packs from the fridge. Almost as an afterthought he grabs his first aid kit from the bathroom. He’s expecting to find his neighbor where he’s left him, but the ledge is empty and the window is fully open. With a roll of his eyes he crouches and swings one leg inside the apartment, followed by his body, and then his other leg. 

“Oi. Dumbass. Where’d you go?” He hasn’t known this guys for more than twenty minutes and already Kageyama’s not unconvinced his neighbor might have somehow fallen off the fire escape entirely. 

A head pokes up from the couch. “That’s not my name. How would you like it if I just called you a jerk, or - or  _ something.  _ Jerk!”

“What are you? Five?” Kageyama comes around the couch to the area that will later be the living room. “Besides, you haven’t told me your name.”

“Pft.” His neighbor throws an arm over his face. “Like you’re offering yours?”

Kageyama’s lip come to a tight line. He can figure out that he’s being called rude in no uncertain terms. It’s ridiculous, he’s not the only one being difficult here. His no name neighbor has managed to impose upon him more than once in the last twenty minutes and all he was trying to do was have a smoke. Stupid neighbor, with his stupid knee, stupid shirt that’s riding up his stupid stomach, and his stupid orange hair - well, okay, maybe the hair is more weird than anything else.

“Kageyama,” he grinds his own name out. “Kageyama Tobio.”

A gold eyes appears from behind his arm, “What?”

“That’s my name.”

His neighbor sits up. “Oh.” Kageyama watches him push his fists into the couch as he bites his lip. “Hinata Shouyou.”

“Fine.” Kageyama looks to the coffee table to his right then Hinata. “Can I sit?”

“Yeah, table’s old anyway.”

Kageyama sits as he tosses Hinata an ice pack. “Hold that on your knee for twenty minutes. Then we’ll wrap it. Should help with the swelling, but if it’s worse in the morning go to the doctors.” He glances up to find Hinata staring at him. His face starts to go hot under the weight of his gaze, “What?”

Hinata leans back, his torso loose and back curved into the counch as he shrugs. “Nothing. You just seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Well, yeah. I studied sports medicine.”

“So, you’re, like, qualified to be a doctor?”

“No, it’s not the same dumbass. I just, I - I know a lot about injuries and wound care and stuff like that. I guess. But, I can’t like  _ diagnose  _ anything.”

Hinata hums in response and even though his head is turned away Kageyama can feel him staring, still. His gaze is hot against his skin and the longer it lingers the less composed he feels. Kageyama clears his throat. “What about you?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, what do you do for work?”

“Oh! So, you do have manners. I thought we were just going to sit in silence.”

“Holy fuck, are you always this annoying!” Kageyama snaps his head back to Hinata and in return he’s blessed by being laughed at in the face. 

“You’re just way too easy.”

He bristles at the comment, knowing Hinata is not wrong. His whole life things have gotten under his skin a lot easier than others. It was probably why he’d never been able to escape his reputation as an egotistical jerk, not that his new  _ fans  _ seemed to notice. “Fine! We’ll sit in silence.”

“Aw, c’ mon. I was only teasing. I run a nonprofit -”

“No way,” Kageyama cuts him off before he can continue, his voice clipped and unbelieving. 

Hinata sits back up, “Yes way! Don’t give me that face.”

“What face?”

“The face that is all like ‘Wah??? This guy is a capable adult?’ That one.” Hinata points to punctuate his point.

Kageyama taps his finger tips against the wooden table in response. Somewhere in the apartment a clock ticks, unseen, just an auditory reminder that he’s somehow been sucked into spending a large chunk of his evening with his neighbor, who might as well be a stranger. “Whatever,” is the worldly conclusion he comes to.

“Whatever, yourself.” Hinata shifts, drawing Kageyama’s attention to his knee.

“Jesus.” Kageyama reaches between them and grabs Hinata’s hand, moving it so it’s properly situated over the inflammation. “Keep the ice on the whole knee not just part of the knee. The swelling won’t go down that way.”

“But, it’s cold!” 

Kageyama rolls his eyes, “Just put up with it for a few more minutes.”

“Only if you give me my hand back.”

“What?” 

“My  _ hand. _ ”

He looks back to Hinata’s knee and takes his hand away like it’s been burned. 

“I’m not going to put out just because you saved me.” Hinata says with a tilt of his head.

“W-w-what?” He sits so far back on the coffee table it skids across the wood flooring. “I-I-I wasn’t  _ doing  _ anything! You’re the one sitting with your shirt half way up your stomach.”

Hinata looks down and yanks at his shirt. “Why are you looking! Pervert! Pervy-yama!”

“Pervert! You-you! You’re so frustrating!” Kageyama knows his entire face is red and there’s very little he can do to stop it from getting worse. “Why are we even talking about this!”

“Because you wouldn’t let me talk about my job!”

“So that makes it okay for you to put me on the spot like that?”

“Yes.”

Kageyama slaps his hands to his face. “Fine. What  _ kind  _ of nonprofit do you  _ supposedly _ run?”

“My program rescues animals and rehabilitates them to become service pets. We have locations all across the country, but I moved here to help with the founding of a base of operations.”

It takes a moment to process this new information. First of all, this new revelation doesn’t match Hinata’s appearance at all. Kageyama  _ looks  _ like he could be an athlete considering his height and undeniably sculpted body. If anybody asked him what he did for a living and he responded with professional athlete there would be no reason for people to  _ not  _ believe him. Hinata on the other hand looks like a kindergarten teacher. “Really?”

Hinata’s mouth drops open. “Yes, really!” His voice squawks with indignation. “I cannot believe you are this - this - arrogant!”

Kageyama’s face heats up at being scolded, but it’s never been like him to back down. “Well,  _ sorry _ , but you look like a twelve year old.”

“Oh, come  _ on.”  _ Hinata rolls his eyes. “I know I’m  _ short,  _ but I  _ know  _ I don’t look like I’m a preteen. I bet I’m older than you even!”

“No way!”

“I’m twenty-seven.”

Kageyama physically reels. “Are you serious?”

“Why don’t you believe anything I say? Do I  _ look  _ like a liar?”

“No, I just,” Kageyama can feel himself frowning out of frustration. Talking with Hinata is, well,  _ a lot  _ for him to handle. The only people who he deals with that are as intense as this are interviewers, always so relentless with their questions, and maybe his ex - who just so happens to be this manager. This new comparison to the media, though, inspires Kageyama. He’s had plenty of PR coaching for the interviews he’s been doing lately and talking to Hinata seems fairly similar. He takes a breath, “You’re right.”

“Hmm?” Hinata seems to lose a little bit of his intensity. 

“You were right, I’m only twenty-six.”

Hinata smiles, all bright and warm and reminiscent of summer. Kageyama has to look away.

“So, um, how did you get started with the nonprofit?” 

This seems to catch Hinata by surprise. “Oh, um. I was in veterinary school and I just - it was so sad. I had started my internship and I realized pretty quickly that I was killing more animals than I was saving. It was hard to admit, but in practice being a vet wasn’t for me. So, I left school and started to work on getting funding for an animal rescue program so I could actually help animals.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah,” Hinata snorts. “Not a twelve year old.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “I was going to compliment you, but you didn’t give me the chance.”

Hinata leans forward, “Aw, c’ mon. I was just teasing you.”

It doesn’t take more prodding for Kageyama to relent. “Fine. I was going to say that was admirable - or something.”

“Oooo, or  _ something. _ ” Hinata snickers, but Kageyama doesn’t feel necessarily irritated by that. Instead he finds himself staring at Hinata’s eyes, they looks like dollops of the sweetest honey plopped right onto a freckled face. He’s embarrassed that it’s happening so openly, but maybe if Hinata wasn’t smiling back at him like a child who had just received their new favorite toy - 

Kageyama blinks himself out of the moment. “It’s been long enough, let me look at your knee.”

“Oh, right.” Hinata moves the bag of ice. “Well, that looks -” he pauses to bite his lip and then look up at Kageyama from beneath his lashes, “- like it could be worse?”

Kageyama reaches out and sets his hand on the inside of Hinata’s knee, firm but gentle. His thumb presses tenderly at the swollen area checking for elevated discomfort. “Is that painful?”

“No,” Hinata leans back, supporting his weight on his hands. “It’s a little sore, but it doesn’t feel  _ painful.  _ Not like, ‘ _ Gwah! _ I’m going to rip my knee off.’”

Kageyama smirks at that. “‘ _ Gwah?’  _ What kind of noise is that?”

Hinata flicks his forehead. 

“Ouch! You idiot! I’m trying to help -” He looks up to Hinata, his smile playful. His irritation crumbles, the fight wouldn’t be worth it right now. Not when he gets the sense that Hinata would only laugh at his irritation. “Let’s wrap it.”

“You’re the doctor.”

“I  _ told  _ you, I’m not a doctor,” Kageyama sets the bandage above Hinata’s knee.

“Yeah, but I bet you’re good at playing doctor.”

It’s such a simple statement, but Kageyama feels his whole psyche do a one-eighty. A few different things pass through his mind. The first being that, again he’s not a doctor. Second, if he looks up and sees Hinata’s face right now he’s going to absolutely fall apart in a very embarrassing display of  _ awkward.  _ Third, it’s only been roughly forty-five minutes since they’ve met and Hinata already knows too much about how to push him to so many of his extremes. And last, but not least, Hinata might  _ actually  _ be hitting on him. 

It’s been awhile since he’s been with anyone, nine months and seventeen days to be exact, not that he’s counting. He’s totally counting, because who can forget having their heart so epically broken? His mind moves a million miles a minute, but is slow to respond. Should he flirt back? Does he even know how to? He must of at one point, but who knows where that skill lies in his useless brain now?

So, instead of anything he could respond with, Kageyama simply continues wrapping Hinata’s knee. “For the last time, I’m not a doctor.”

“You’re obviously not a genius either,” Hinata mumbles and Kageyama pretends not to hear. 

Kageyama finishes wrapping Hinata’s knee and grabs a bottle from his first aid kit. “Here, two should be enough. Try to stay off if until morning, at least.” Hinata takes the tylenol without question and Kageyama stands to leave.

“Hey, can you hand me my take out before you go? It’s over there on the counter.”

“Too lazy to get it yourself?”

“You just told me to stay off my leg.” Hinata reclines against the armrest of the couch.

“Fine,” Kageyama grabs the bag on the counter and takes it over to Hinata. “Here you go.” He heads the the window and stops once his foot is outside and he’s straddling the ledge. “Um, if you need me -” He pauses his brow furrowing at how lame he feels. He can’t help but to wonder why he’s even  _ offering,  _  “I’m just downstairs.”

“We should exchange numbers,” Hinata says and digs around in his pocket, "probably shouldn’t be going down the stairs just yet, right?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Well? Give it to me.” There’s a beat. “And by  _ it  _ I mean your number.”  Hinata smiles, unabashed.

Kageyama chokes at Hinata’s statement -  _ No way, there’s just no way...  _ He recites his number by memory and a moment later his pocket vibrates with a text from Hinata. “Okay, well. I’ll see you later I guess.”

“Yeah, later.” 

Kageyama pauses a moment as Hinata stuffs some greasy looking chow mein in his mouth. He swallows around the half chewed noodles.

“Oh, and Kageyama?”

“What?” He frowns at having been caught. 

“Earlier, when you were wrapping my knee.” Hinata readies his next bite and levels his gaze at Kageyama. “I was.”

“What?”

“It was exactly what you were thinking.”

He nearly falls out of the window with how quickly he moves to leave. “Dumbass!” He shouts in retaliation, but Hinata’s laughter follows him all the way to his fire escape. 


	2. A Long Night Spent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama gets some box and Hinata watches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo yo yo. 
> 
> So I'm back with a brand new track. Somebody saw me spitting hot rhymes and said, "Get this girl in a booth!"
> 
> That's not true.
> 
> Despite the chapter summary I assure you these boys are still very gay.
> 
> Here's the bullshit~

Kageyama emerges from his shower with a towel draped low on his waist and another passing over his hair. Practice that day had been endurance based, the team hadn’t even gone to the court. He’s use to days like this, but after a long weekend, that he dutifully spent resting, Kageyama is ready to get back to the court. 

He walks out into his living room, still toweling his hair, the large windows that sit on the west side of his apartment let in all the light his home needs so he always keeps them unobstructed. The sunlight fills his apartment, granting a softness to the light wood floors and clean gray lines he chooses to fill it with. He leans over the low sitting gray sectional and tosses around the few pillows Tsukishima had picked out when they first moved in. He kind of hates them, but he can’t bring himself to throw them in the trash.

In a last effort he moves the royal blue blanket aside from the area he had kicked it to the previous night to reveal the remote. He turns to the local news and throws the remote back down on the couch.

The anchor on the tv begins with a local story about a boy who was rescued by his dog after falling into a river on the opposite side of town. It’s the fluff pieces that keep Kageyama coming back to the figurative shit show every morning. He couldn’t care less about politics or  _ What’s in You Child’s Sandbox?  _ He’s learned in recent months that any article or segment that ends in a question mark is usually bullshit. This is a fact he’s learned intimately.  _ Is Kageyama Tobio In A Relationship? Is Kageyama Tobio A Recluse With A Reformed Criminal? Is Kageyama Tobio Gay?  _ No. No. No comment. Thanks for the expert reporting. 

He’s just beginning to dig into his granola cereal with banana slices when his phone buzzes against the counter. Dropping the spoon in the bowl he reaches for his phone. He’s not expecting a call, his regular conversations with his mom take place on wednesday and sunday. 

Instead of his mom’s contact an unsaved number blinks up at him, alerting him that he has a text message. 

**_Unknown:_ ** _ Help me! _

Kageyama looks around his apartment as if his immediate area will reveal more information than he has. He taps out a message and sets the phone on the counter, glaring it into submission. It buzzes.

**_Unknown:_ ** _ What do you mean who is this????? It’s your neighbor stupid! _

There’s more glaring on Kageyama’s end. None of his neighbors have his number....

**_Unknown:_ ** _ HINATA!  _

**_Unknown:_ ** _ With the knee!! _

He stares at the screen, frozen at the idea that Hinata is a real person. Kageyama is far from delusional, he knows Hinata asked for his number the previous night. And that, maybe, quite possibly, Hinata had even tried flirting with him, but that’s the very reason he doesn’t understand  _ why _ Hinata would be trying to talk to him again. The whole exchange had consumed his mind the rest of the previous evening. The mortification he feels just  _ thinking _ about it is completely justifiable. 

There’s a loud bang on the floor above him then, faintly, he can hear Hinata on the level above. His voice is significantly muffled, but Kageyama can hear the insult in his tone as well as the word  _ forget _ .

Furiously he texts back. 

**_Kageyama:_ ** _ You’re going to damage your floor. _

**_Unknown:_ ** _ Then come HELP me. _

In all his years Kageyama has never met anybody so unbelievably - his mind searches for the word. Something between irritating and endearing, but only endearing because of Hinata kind of reminds him of a fawn or something - Kageyama frowns.

**_Kageyama:_ ** _ Fine. Be up soon. _

He takes his cereal to his room and sets it on his dresser as he goes through the motions of getting dressed. He keeps his phone close, periodically opening it up to the short conversation he’s had with Hinata. It seems almost unreal that somebody could be a stranger one day and, well, not a stranger the next. But, that’s the marvel of human connection - it’s spontaneous.

He’s dressed in a white v-neck and dark gray basketball shorts that fall right above his knees. As Kageyama passes the guest bathroom he checks his reflection in the mirror, his hair lies flat for the most part. There’s just a few strands that have fallen in the wrong places which he corrects by combing his fingers through his hair. Then, realizing what he’s doing, he frowns. There’s no reason to  _ care _ if his hair is a little messy. He doesn’t normally. Not that he’s a slob, but something about his action seems to intentional, to fueled by an ulterior agenda that he won’t even acknowledge. In protest of his own subconscious Kageyama turns away from the mirror shaking his head.

As he steps out onto the fire escape he peeks down at the street, sure enough there’s a small crowd. It’s only three people, but by the afternoon it will more than triple in size. He’s just thankful that none of them ever think to look up. He climbs the stairs to Hinata’s window and raps his knuckles against the glass. It takes a minute, but Hinata emerges from the bedroom and hobbles over the to him to undo the lock and raise the glass. 

“Took you long enough,” Hinata’s tone is serious, but when Kageyama looks up at him he sees the smile tugging at Hinata’s face. 

“Tch. You’re so annoying already. I was just getting out of the shower when I got your text, cut me a break.”

Hinata sticks out his tongue. “I know, I can hear your shower from my bedroom.”

His face pulls into an expression of slightly creeped out confusion, but he chooses to ignore that statement and move into the living room. Since yesterday the apartment has changed, there’s boxes staged in different areas for unpacking and there’s a few knickknacks set up on various shelving units that hadn’t been there the previous evening. “What do you need help with?”

Hinata hobbles around him, “The movers mismarked six of my kitchen boxes and put them in the bedroom. I was  _ hoping  _ you might move them into the kitchen.” Hinata slaps his hands together and looks up at Kageyama through his lashes. “Please!”

Objectively, Hinata looks absolutely pathetic in his tattered, oversized shirt and and cut off cotton sweats, not to mention the blatant limp. Kageyama doesn’t so much roll his eyes as he rolls his entire head. “Why didn’t you get the movers to do it?

Hintata’s hands drop away. “I didn’t notice until a bit ago. I’m fine unpacking everything I just can’t lift anything because I can’t bend my knee too much.” When Kageyama doesn’t say anything Hinata continues, “C’ mon, you’d really be helping me out.”

Kageyama looks away, his face growing warm at Hinata’s sincerity. “Fine,” his voice is rough. “But you can’t just stand around and watch me do all the work. You better keep unpacking at least. Don’t be lazy.” 

“Who says I’m lazy?” Hinata squawks at him. 

“I do,” Kageyama says stepping around him towards the bedroom. “I bet I can move all your kitchen boxes before you can unpack a single box.”

Hinata takes another step into Kageyama’s space and glares up at him with a challenge. “Any box, any room. I’ll definitely win.”

Kageyama stops and takes in the apartment. He has to move six boxes, so all he has to do is give Hinata a box that will take longer to unpack than that. “That one,” he points to a box marked  _ living room _ that happens to be closer to the dining area than the actual living room. 

“Fine,” Hinata looks back to him. “OneTwoThree GO!”

He rushes to the bedroom and immediately realizes his mistake. He has no idea which boxes are supposed to go to the kitchen. In retrospect Kageyama had  _ assumed  _ that the mismarked boxes would have already been opened, and he’s right, however,  it’s his misfortune that  _ all _ the boxes are open. “Hey, dumbass! Which boxes go to the kitchen?”

“Sorry! I can’t hear you over the sound of me  _ winning _ !” His voice is almost too happy, as if he knew exactly what would happen.

A new found emotion runs through him. Forget how cute Hinata may or may not be, or how pathetic he is with his injured knee, Kageyama wants to crush him. He starts tearing through the boxes. The first three are clothes, but the fourth is clearly dishes. He lifts the box and hurries to the kitchen. Hinata is making slow progress. The box Kageyama has chosen is large and filled with knick knacks. Things that take a little time to put away just because of the tediousness. 

Finding the rest of the boxes is a little easier, but it isn’t until his fifth trip to the kitchen that he notices Hinata is almost done. Kageyama picks up the pace, determined to win. There’s only a few boxes left and he scans through them only to find that not one of them blatantly belongs in the kitchen. He looks again. The boxes are full of pictures, towels, clothes, clothes, clothes, work out pieces, a bottle of -  _ oh my god that’s definitely lube. ANAL LUBE. I definitely did not see that.  _ Given the circumstances Kageyama can’t stay focused on the lube, victory is slipping away. He goes back through the boxes a third time, avoiding what will now be known at the  _ Probable Sex Box -  _ PSB for short _.  _ He digs deeper in the box of towels and they start to unfold, they aren’t towels at all, but dish cloths. 

The box is light and he rushes out of the room, Hinata is crossing his path as he emerges from the corridor and halts. “Move, dumbass!”

“No way! If I move you win.”

“Damn straight, now move!”

“Never!”

Kageyama tries to muscle through, but remembers that Hinata’s injured and that he’s an adult who isn’t a complete ass.

“I just have to get everything from the box to the living room, right?”

He looks at the yellow lamp Hinata is holding and narrows his eyes. “Yeah.”

Hinata smirks up at him, evil. 

“You wouldn’t,” Kageyama deadpans.

He’s wrong, of course. Hinata brings his arm back and throws the lamp towards the couch. It lands and Hinata celebrates a moment too early because a split second later the lamp bounces onto the floor with a loud crash. 

Hinata’s mouth drops open with a comical gasp. “My lamp!”

Despite his loss, hell, despite his demeanor, Kageyama’s face begins to crumble. A grin forces itself onto his face and next thing he knows he’s laughing. He can’t seem to stop, there’s something about Hinata’s shock that he finds so amusing. Like, what did Hinata  _ expect  _ to happen when he threw the fucking lamp. He begins to calm down and he can only think of one thing to say, “You probably scratched your floors.”

“Noooooo!” Hinata whines, “The floors are my favorite part of the apartment.”

The statement only renews Kageyama’s laughter. “I can’t believe you threw the fucking lamp.” 

At first Hinata only frowns, but after a moment his face cracks open in a smile. “I was aiming for the couch!”

Kageyama takes huge gulping breaths, “Well you didn’t  _ completely  _ miss.”

Hinata rolls his eyes and limps after him into the kitchen. “Thanks for moving the boxes.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”

From his peripheral Hinata bobs his head, “So, do you think you could clean up the glass?”

“What?” He whips around. Just who does Hinata think he is?

Hinata pouts, “I don’t think I can do it. You know, with my  _ knee. _ ” 

Kageyama bites the inside of his lip. He’s starting to suspect Hinata’s only using his knee as an excuse. “Fine, but only because you won.”

“So you admit I won!”

Kageyama rolls his eyes, “Yeah, whatever. If you call breaking your lamp and fucking up your natural wood floors winning.”

“Why are you so obsessed with my floors!”

“I’m not obsessed!”

“You kind of are. You’ve mentioned them three times now.”

“Well, I don’t know. You use them more than anything else in your house. It’s, just,  _ practical, _ to take care of them.”

“Uh-huh.” Hinata stares at him a little blankly, his tongue pushing at the side of his lip. “I guess if you like floors so much, I’ll let you help me clean the glass up.”

Kageyama tries to willfully relax his face. They hadn’t even been fighting, or whatever, and he’s  _ still  _ seething for some reason. “Where’s your broom?”

Hinata scratches the back of his head and looks off to the side of Kageyama, “Well, you see -”

“Jesus fucking christ.”

“Hey!” Hinata snaps with indignation, “I  _ had  _ one, but it’s so cheap that I just gave it to my neighbor before I moved and I haven’t gone to buy a new one yet.”

Kageyama is going to get dizzy if he has to do anymore eye rolling today. “I’ll go grab mine. Try not to break anything else while I’m gone.” He hands the box over to Hinata. 

“No, promises.” Hinata sticks his tongue out.

With that Kageyama runs back down the fire escape to his apartment to grab his broom and dustpan. On his way back up to Hinata’s apartment he notices the crowd at the front door of the building. Just a few more people than before, but it still irks him.

He gives a cursory knock to the window frame before climbing through to the apartment. “I’m back.” There’s music playing now from a speaker set on a bookshelf by the door.

“Cool,” Hinata’s voice comes from the kitchen, audible just over the din of music. “Just, uh, throw the glass in one of the empty boxes. I need to start a trash box anyway.”

He grabs an empty box and throws the larger pieces of the lamp in it followed by the smaller pieces he gets with the broom and dustpan. “Looks like you managed to avoid fucking up your floor.”

“Good,” Hinata’s voice is a little strained, but edging on sarcastic. “I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”

Kageyama stands from his floor inspection and goes to where Hinata is in the kitchen. He’s attempting to load a stack of plates onto the top shelf of the cabinets, but fails to get enough height while trying to balance on his one good leg. He’s precariously close to dropping the whole stack the more off balance he becomes. Kageyama rushes behind him, accidently pushing Hinata into the counter as he takes the plates from him and sets them in the cabinets.

“Aww, if I didn’t know better I’d almost think you were worried I was going to hurt myself,” Hinata teases him.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m going to have to clean up more glass if you drop them,” Kageyama grumbles in response.

“Thank you,” Hinata turns his head to look up at him. 

Hinata smells good, something Kageyama is just noticing because this is the first time they’ve been this close. It’s soft, woodsy at its core, but complemented by the lingering scent of shampoo. The dipping afternoon sun plays off Hinata’s warm eyes, revealing the layers of darker brown flecks that add so much depth to them. He turns against Kageyama so they’re facing each other, it’s only then that Kageyama steps back. His face feels hot with embarrassment, he hadn’t even noticed he was still pressed into him.

“Would you mind finishing up in here? It’s just dishes and silverware. I can keep working in the living room if you do.” Hinata bats his eyelashes at him, a coy and self serving smile on his face that makes Kageyama sneer due to pure lack of willpower. 

He turns to the box of dishes on the stove, “You owe me.”

Against his internal monologue telling him to go home before he’s eaten, Kageyama spends the rest of his day at Hinata’s apartment. He’s convinced he’s getting worked up over nothing and that the tension he’s imagined between them is just that,  _ imagined.  _

Still, he find his eyes following Hinata as he teeters around putting things in their place. His house is surprisingly well decorated, not that Kageyama would ever admit that. There’s no clutter and there are  _ actual  _ decorative choices like splashes of color and purposefully mismatched throws. Kageyama’s apartment is simplistic, not that he  _ minds. _ Tsukishima had liked clean lines and minimalism, and Kageyama had lacked preference when they moved in together a few years ago.

He’s helping Hinata hang a photo of a row of about ten dogs above the TV when he mentions his conclusion. “Your place fits you.”

Hinata snorts. “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. Tch. Maybe, like, random shit you refuse to get rid of.”

“Meh. That’s all in the bedroom. The rest of the apartment has to stay like this.”

“Why?”

“I host fundraising parties at my apartment every once in awhile. I had to do it a lot when I was first starting out because I couldn’t afford a venue.”

Kageyama nods at Hinata’s explanation and tilts his head as he admires the photo. It’s taken on a grassy shore of a lake, probably in the middle of a park.

“They were my first.”

He turns to Hinata who catches his eyes and nods back towards the photo.

“The first ten dogs I rescued and trained.”

“You did that by yourself?”

Hinata shakes his head. “No, my best friend founded the program with me. We trained them together. Now we employ a lot more people to help train them. You know, specialists for really advanced courses of therapy.” A hand slaps against his shoulder, “Sit. I’ll get you a beer. I ordered pizza about twenty minutes ago. Should be here soon.”

Kageyama stares at the photo a moment longer, arms crossed over his chest. “What kind of pizza?” He asks stepping towards the couch. 

The click of metal on glass punctuates his question as Hinata rounds the kitchen counter back to him. “Just pepperoni.” He hands Kageyama the beer and flops onto the couch. His head reclines against the cushion. “Thanks for helping me out today.” Hinata’s eyes slip close and he takes a long pull of his beer.

“You’re injured, not like it could be helped.” Kageyama leans out over his knees, the body of the bottle resting between both hands.

Hinata’s laugh gets caught in his throat like he’s gagging on it, “I would have tricked you into helping anyway.”

“Fucking idiot.” Kageyama pulls from his beer, not feeling nearly as put off by the confession as he thinks he should.

“Can’t blame me.”

“Why’s that?

“Who doesn’t want eye candy when unpacking their apartment?”

Kageyama chokes on his beer, he hits his chest as he coughs. Next to him Hinata chuckles around his next sip. As if what Hinata had said wasn’t embarrassing enough, he’s devolved into a deep hacking cough that makes him sound like he has bronchitis. The intercom chimes. “Pizza for Hinata Shouyou.”

Hinata sets his beer on the table, leaving Kageyama to suffer with the burn in his chest. “I’m buzzing you in.” Hinata hits the buzzer. “Now where’s my wallet.”

With a final slap to his chest Kageyama is able to compose himself. He can’t grasp how Hinata can be so nonchalant about  _ flirting.  _ Kageyama is fine admitting to himself that he’s gay, but he’s a private person. Not only is he private, but he’s discreet; straight passing in the streets and cock loving in the sheets. That being stated, it’s unsettling to consider that Hinata has pegged him as gay after just a few hours. 

There’s a knock at the door and Hinata emerges from the bedroom with his wallet. Kageyama begins frantically peeling the label on his bottle, worried that Hinata is going to expect a  _ response  _ to his last statement. He  _ knows  _ he doesn’t have a prayer trying to respond in any sort of attractive manner. The phrase, “ _ I’m not that sweet though,”  _ is the only thing he can think of - because Hinata had compared him to candy and that makes sense, right? Right?!

Hinata comes back to the living room, the pizza box is already thrown open and he has a slice hanging limply from his right hand. He sits on the couch tucking his good leg up on the cushions and extending this other one in the space between him and Kageyama. “Here,” he passes Kageyama the box. 

He takes it, his brows drawn close together. He’s thrown. Hinata is  _ confusing _ . He’s flirting one second and passing pizza the next. He manages to be unflappable and impulsive simultaneously.

“Thanks,” Kageyama says taking a slice.

“It’s fine. It’s my way of saying thanks.” There’s a palpable silence, it’s not uncomfortable. It’s just on the fringes of untroubled, but still the natural end to the otherwise playful energy that had fueled their interactions all day. It’s an emotionless pause, a shift from purposeful interaction to willful interaction. 

Kageyama sets his beer on the table and takes a bite of his pizza. It’s terrible. “Did you order from Papa Pie?”

Hinata looks over to him, maybe a little surprised Kageyama took the initiative to conversate. “Yeah, they’re the closest.”

“Don’t order from there. Get pizza from Hearth’s.”

“Who died and made you pizza lord?”

“Tch. I’m trying to help you.”

Hinata shoves Kageyama’s thigh with his foot. “Give me back my pizza if you don’t like it.”

“No way I already bit it,” He takes another bite to punctuate his point. Part of him knows Hinata will take his statement as a challenge, and he’s right. 

Hinata throws himself towards Kageyama, forgetting to be mindful of his injury. “Give it!” He’s crawling over Kageyama in an attempt to snatch away the slice. Kageyama shoves the last quarter of it in his mouth, crust and all. 

“Oh my god! That’s disgusting,” Hinata laughs in defeat and flops back to his original position with a wince. 

“Okay?” Kageyama swallows the lump of food in his mouth

“Think I hurt my knee again right now.”

Kageyama turns his body towards Hinata, “Should I look at it?”

The smile that settles on Hinata’s face is sharp, but his voice is unchanged, “Sure.” He extends his body further down the couch, slumping against the armrest so the foot of his injured leg sits over Kageyama’s lap.

He frowns at the bandage around Hinata’s knee. “You did a piss poor job at wrapping this.”

“Well, sorry~” Hinata drags the word out with a roll of his eyes. 

Kageyama takes it off, not bothering to roll it up. Hinata’s knee doesn’t look too swollen, but it is a little red. “There’s no bruising, so that’s a good sign. Keep the wrap off when you sleep tonight.”

He grabs Hinata’s extended ankle and pushes his leg back towards his chest to see how it flexes. “Let me know if it hurts.”

“Meh. It doesn’t  _ hurt,  _ but it is sore.”

He releases Hinata’s ankle and his socked foot lands on the inside of Kageyama’s thigh. “What about this?” His fingers push at the surrounding muscle, trailing a few inches above Hinata’s knee. “Does this hurt?”

“No,” Hinata’s voice is thick. “It feels nice.”

At this Kageyama’s head snaps up. Hinata has propped himself up a bit on his elbows, his right hand trails not so subtly up and down his exposed navel. “You know what kind of people peel the labels off their bottles?” Hinata’s foot travels under Kageyama’s shorts and up his inner thigh, “The sexually frustrated.”

Kageyama’s hand relaxes against Hinata’s thigh, his mouth is dry and his brain is short circuiting. Flirting is one thing he’s already not very good at, but casual sex is a whole other level he’s not even sure he’s aspiring to. 

He jumps off the couch, knocking the table and subsequently pushing the last of his beer off the edge. It topples to the floor, but he continues to the window completely aware of how immature he feels. “Sorry,” he manages, but not without stumbling over the word a few times.  

He turns back to Hinata at the window. His neighbor studies him with a bemused smirk and an unveiled snort of laughter, “Um, ice your knee for twenty minutes before you sleep.” 

With that he’s gone, stomping down the fire escape and practically throwing himself into the safety of his apartment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever look at your Spotify Time Capsule playlist and get mildly creeped out by the fact there are songs there you haven't thought about in _years_? Well that's how I came up with this week's song. It's an angsty teen classic. Do you remember where you were the first time you heard [MakeDamnSure](https://open.spotify.com/track/48O6kz322Dzu1R6Al5147q) by Taking Back Sunday?
> 
> Pft. This song is more about Hinata than Kageyama, probably. Though it's not going to be touched on for a bit Hinata _definitely_ sees Kageyama as a challenge and, well, Hinata loves a challenge. But enough about that fool! Who's excited to meet Tsukishima next week??? And Oikawa?????
> 
> I get worried about characterization. Because, I mean, people mature. They're in their mid 20s here, so they aren't going to be as over the top as they were as teenagers, but being able to communicate maturity without compromising character integrity is hard. 
> 
> If life is a highway, then your comments are the gas in my car, so fill 'er up boys!
> 
> If you like what you read subscribe! And if you liked it, but you didn't _love_ it please check out my archive for things I'm only half embarrassed to say I wrote! There's something there for everyone.... if you like Jearmin or Kurofai.
> 
> Anyway, until next time, which may be next week, could be longer, but will not be never.


	3. Left Open

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama is just a boy, who wants to be a man, and he happens to hate Tuesday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!
> 
> It's been a flaming hot minute since I last posted. Mostly because production on this fic has slowed. There have been some life circumstances keeping me from writing. But this chapter is ready, so I figured, why not?
> 
> Let's drop!

_ It’s Tuesday, _ Kageyama thinks abysmally when he opens his eyes to stare at his alarm clock. It’s mechanical as he throws on a few different nondescript clothing items and tugs a maroon beanie down over his ears. The mornings are starting to become nippy as the season changes to early fall. Grabbing his gym bag he heads out, using his phone to call for a ride as he takes the stairs down to the ground level. 

There’s no doorman this early so when Kageyama emerges from his building the last thing he expects is for there to be somebody standing precariously against the pole of the awning. He turns his attention back to his phone, by this time the team managers have already uploaded their schedule for practice and he needs an idea of how many calories to plan for before and after.

“Are you Kageyama Tobio?” 

Kageyama looks up, the pole leaner has stepped towards him. There’s nothing particularly threatening about this person, they’re slight and their voice is that of an adolescent. Still, Kageyama takes a step back. His automatic response is, “No.” He hikes the collar of his jacket up a little further and pulls the beanie low. His phone says the car is only a minute away.

“Aw man. I was hoping to see him. I heard a rumor that he lives here. Hey, maybe you guys are neighbors?”

“Don’t think so.”

“I really want to have him sign my volleyball,” the kid holds it up towards him. 

Kageyama kisses his teeth in irritation. “Just go to one of the signings. Don’t bother him at home.”

“I’ve tried, but they only let a handful of people in at those things. Besides, won’t it seem more natural to just run into him?”

“By waiting outside his apartment? Yeah, I’m sure he’d appreciate that.”

The kid smiles, obviously not having caught on to Kageyama’s sarcasm. “Well I’m his biggest fan! He’ll definitely want to meet me!”

Just then a car pulls up and Kageyama opens the door quicker than is probably necessary. The driver looks at him through the rearview. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine,” Kageyama mumbles in return. 

After a moment the driver speaks, “I heard a rumor that’s the building Kageyama Tobio lives in. You know? That volleyball player the media keeps calling gay.”

Kageyama’s stomach clenches. 

“Ah, not the talking type. Mind if I put on some music?”

“Your car.”

The day cannot possibly get any worse, then he remembers that it’s  _ Tuesday. _

 

* * *

 

 

Practice ends with half the team dead on the court and the other half slowly limping to the locker rooms. Endurance training is the worst, if Kageyama never has to run a suicide again in his life it would  _ still _ be too soon. Thankfully, he’s still in better shape than some others considering he’s one of the people currently still mobile and making their way to the locker room. 

“To-bi-o.”

Kageyama groans and limps faster, but not fast enough because Oikawa catches up, his arm coming to rest over Kageyama’s shoulders. He glances at him from the corner of his eye,  “What?” He frowns, Oikawa isn’t even phased by the monster of a workout they just did.

“I just need to make sure you know about the team dinner this Friday.”

Kageyama scoffs. “Yeah. I know about it.”

“I take it that you’re not coming. Again.”

They arrive at the lockers. “Why should it matter to you what I’m doing?”

“Maybe because Iwa-chan won’t stop riding my ass about this.” Oikawa leans against the lockers, arms crossed. When Kageyama doesn’t respond his eyes narrow. “You know what that’s like, right? Having a manager that loves to  _ ride your ass.” _

“Fuck off.” Kageyama lowers his voice, “Pots shouldn’t feed into  _ rumors  _ about kettles.”

Oikawa turns away at the sound of other people entering. “Maybe kettles should be a little nicer to pots. After all, the pot isn’t the one hanging over the fire right now.”

Kageyama frowns at the towel in his hands, thinking,  _ Tch. Fucking Oikawa.  _ It’s hard for him to believe he’s the relief for  _ that  _ guy.  _ At least it’s not Tuesday.  _ Kageyama sighs, “God dammit.”

 

* * *

 

There’s a knock on his door at exactly three and, like he does every week, Kageyama pauses to steel himself for the encounter he’s about to have. He opens the door and there’s Tsukishima as infuriatingly good looking as he’s ever been. 

“Hey,” Kageyama grinds out. 

Tsukishima looks up from his phone. “You need to stop being an asshole to Oikawa.”

“He fucking started it.”

His manager steps around him, “You already have your head on the chopping block since the tabloids ran with the gay story.”

“So, handle it. That’s what you’re here for, right?”

“Yeah and it’s why I’m telling you to play nice with Oikawa.”

Kageyama sits on his edge of the sectional, his unspoken seat through their weekly meeting, and Tsukishima sits on the opposite side. “I shouldn’t have to play nice with him. He’s a prick. He’s always getting in my face and trying to have random conversations with me.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “You think he wants to do that? It’s not like you’re a great conversationalist.”

“Coming from you? Really?”

Tsukishima looks at him over the frame of his glasses, petulant. “He does it because he needs to protect his own image since you’re doing little to help your own.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that Oikawa’s PR team worked very hard to dispel the gay rumors about him when he made his professional debut. Now, you have those same rumors floating around about you, making you a flaming match that’s dangerously close to a pile of trash. Anytime you two are seen together is a liability for him, but it’s impossible to keep you guys from interacting. You’re teammates.”

“Then why is he inviting me to the team dinner?”

Tsukishima rifles through his bag, “Not being seen with you is equally troublesome. It starts to look purposeful when you’re never at the same place, especially when the rest of the team is there.”

“So what am I supposed to do?”

“You could start by doing what I’ve been asking you to do for months.”

“I don’t care about social media.”

Tsukishima pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know  _ you _ don’t, but the media does. The reason these rumors even exist is because you give the media nothing and it let’s them come to their own conclusion. Intermittent social media posts come across as private, refusing to post to any platform of social media is read as secretive. This is something that we can negate with five or so posts a week because what they have are baseless rumors, unlike what they had on Oikawa.” 

There’s a pause as they stare stubbornly at each other. The last thing either of them is willing to do is back down, Tsukishima because he’s paid to make sure Kageyama keeps his career and Kageyama because he hates to let Tsukishima win. 

“This is the bottom line.” Tsukishima speaks as he holds his gaze steady on Kageyama’s face, “Yes, you are on the team because of your skill, but you are also marketable. You need to generate money for the team, but if this gay rumor gets out of hand you can kiss your sponsorship campaigns goodbye right along with the Olympics.”

He feels a little deflated, like a balloon full of helium that is beginning to droop. Outside his window, Kageyama watches his balcony. There’s a single chair he found at an antique mall with his mom and a drink trolley he uses for a few succulents. There’s a shadow that moves over the chair, if he listens closely he can hear the shift of movement on the balcony above his. “What kind of shit would I even post?” He doesn’t give two shits about the money, he’d go to the Olympics for free.

“Anything. Look at your teammate’s accounts if you need ideas. Most of them have photos of their meals, families or wives if they have one, and their fans.”

Kageyama rolls his bottom lip in annoyance. “Can’t you guys just run it for me?”

“Honestly? You’re not big enough of a celebrity to justify a ghost account. Plus, it’ll cost you money to add a ghostwriter into your contract with the management agency.”

“What about your, or even Yachi.”

Tsukishima looks at Kageyama over the frame of his glasses. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but you’re not my, or my team’s, only client.” He looks to his tablet.

Sensing he’s fighting a losing battle, “Fine. Three a week. That’s it.”

Tsukishima’s shoulders relax by millimeters. “I’ll have Yachi put reminders in your calendar and sync it up with mine. Don’t let me catch you slacking off.” He unlocks the iPad on his lap. “Now for the rest of your week.” 

All things considered it’s a light week for him. There’s an open practice on Thursday for some kids from youth leagues across the country, the team dinner on Friday he has to show face at, though he’d rather do literally anything else, and a charity dinner on Saturday.

“You need a date.”

“You just got done telling me we’re trying to throw off the gay rumors.”

“Don’t be a fucking child Kageyama, you know what I mean.”

Kageyama runs his hand over his face. “Why can’t I just go alone like I normally do?”

Tsukishima blinks at him. “Are you really this stupid? We need you photographed with women.”

“You’re going to make me do this either way.”

“I’ll have Yachi make some calls before she comes over tomorrow to drop off your dry cleaning. Somebody out there needs a beard as much as you do.”

“Is that it?” Kageyama is about three seconds away from a migraine. He could just fire Tsukishima, but they both know he won’t. He’s too private a person to divulge the amount of personal information needed for a good manager client relationship.

One benefit to having Tsukishima as his manager is that he knows everything about Kageyama’s personal life that needs to be managed in order to have a lucrative career. On the other hand, sometimes Tsukishima knows too much. At least that fact mostly convinces Kageyama that Tsukishima has his best interest in mind. Even if his way of going about achieving what’s in Kageyama’s best interest is the social equivalent of pulling teeth.

“Yes, we’re done here. Unless you have anything for me?”

Kageyama mulls over the incident from that morning over in his mind. “There was a kid waiting for me outside my building this morning when I was leaving for practice.”

“I’ve already told you to move buildings. Did they get physical?” 

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “No, they were just a kid. It was the first time one of them was there that early.”

Tsukishima makes a note on his iPad “I’ll have Daichi start escorting you to all your practices, not just the ones open to the media. If they start getting physical let me know. Anything else?”

“New neighbor upstairs. He hit on me.”

Tsukishima studies him, his face a little more relaxed than usual. “Are you telling me as your manager or as your ex?”

Kageyama looks away, it was stupid to bring up. “Just forget it.”

His manager sighs and removes his glasses. “As your manager all I need to tell you is to keep a low profile. We don’t need a smoking gun on these gay rumors.” He cleans his lens on his shirt, “Or photos of you exiting a gay bar for that matter.”

“Is that what they had on Oikawa?”

“What?”

“Photos of him at a gay club?”

Tsukishima replaces his glasses on his nose and nods. “Just a few blurry photos almost ruined everything for him.” He stands, gathering his things as he does.

Kageyama goes to the door to let Tsukishima out. 

“Same time next week,” Tsukishima says in the doorway. He doesn’t turn, just glances over his shoulder. “As your ex, good. I’m tired of seeing you look like a kicked puppy.”

“You’re such an ass.”

Tsukishima moves away from the door, “Until next week. Call if you need me.”

“Not even if you were my only option.” Kageyama closes the door. 

Fuck Tuesdays.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ship Tsuki and Kags v. hard. Not as hard as Hinata and Kageyama, but a very close second. I promise this is a KageHina fic, there's just some shit to work through with Kageyama and Tsukishima. 
> 
> Speaking of Hinata, that ginger twink will not be making an appearance next chapter either. It's okay, the minx needs time to plan anyway.
> 
> Didn't want to say too much in the beginning note because this isn't a fun topic, but my cat died. I'm lucky enough to have never suffered a loss before her, but it did make her death very tragic for me and I'm still working through it. She was too young, her time was too short. Anyway, because of this I haven't been myself. I fell into a manic episode for the past few weeks that I'm crashing from now. Meds have been adjusted, so hopefully I'll be back to normal productivity level soon. 
> 
> On a better note! Next update we will meet the beautiful, gorgeous soap star Kiyoko! I want to marry her and so does your mom.
> 
> If I were sand on the beach, your comments would be the clear ocean water that I soak up to quench my thirst. Help me stay hydrated!
> 
> Oh?! You liked this? That's great! Be sure to check my archive for something else that might appeal to you, though I really only have Kurofai and Jearmin over there.
> 
> Until next time! - Which will hopefully be sooner than this time.
> 
> Last thing - Here's your song [Another Sad Love Song](https://open.spotify.com/track/52Qu0no0NBho3zyRmjlsHn)


	4. Another One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The broom is a metaphor for dicks.
> 
> *SHORTENED THE TITLE BECAUSE I'M NOT A PROFESSIONAL AND I DO WHAT I WANT*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit!
> 
> I took a break from some other things, got a fuck ton of editing done, and I'm feeling real pumped so here's another chapter!
> 
> Oh! Also, I lied, Hinata IS in this chapter. Good, now he can continue hitting on Kageyama.
> 
> Let's jam!
> 
> *this chapter is 4 of 20... 4/20 - I'm calling the police on myself.... just kidding I live in a legal state. (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑

His phone goes off at nine-ten in the morning. The alert is a little, shrill chime that he’s not use to. He turns the screen over and the notification reads: _Post to Instagram._ Kageyama groans, he hasn't exactly forgotten that he’s promised to follow through on this, but he’d hoped that Tsukishima would forget. In retrospect, that was a stupid thing to hope for. He never forget anything; doctor’s appointments, car registration, birthdays, anniversaries.

Lucky for him he’s just finished making breakfast, which happens to be a bowl of cereal with banana slices. Tsukishima had said something about posting food. He frames his bowl in the center of the picture, in the upper left corner his orange juice is just visible. Standing at the counter he opens the app and attempts to figure it out. Tsukishima had made the profile for him weeks ago, Kageyama thought a lot about the picture Tsukishima has chosen as his profile picture. He could have chosen one from a professional shoot, but he’d chosen one he’d taken of Kageyama across a tiny table in a food court at the airport. _I love this picture of you._

Creating the post is easy enough, but what the hell is tagging? Does he _have_ to use a filter? A few minutes pass, he’s discarded the post twice having done something to it that made the picture look weird. He thinks he finally has it. The caption reads _Breakfast. #breakfast._

Satisfied he grabs his bowl and starts walking towards the couch, just as he’s about to hit post his phone rings. The sudden noise startles him, his phone slips from his hand like a bar of soap. He tries to recover and reaches out quickly for it. Kageyama manages to catch it, but having been distracted fails to notice the rise on the area rug set under his table and trips. His bowl of cereal clatters to the ground, spilling across the wood.

“Fuck,” he mumbles and looks to his phone. _Tsuki,_ it reads. He can’t even remember the last time he called his manager by that name, he makes a mental note to change it. A memory comes to mind of a cold winter day on campus. They’d been walking back from class and gotten to the apartment style dorm. They’d kissed for the first time, under a flickering light. Both of them had pulled away, smirking as if they’d gotten one over on the other. _I guess I can call you Tsuki now. What the fuck, no? Pft, like you’re going to tell me ‘no’._ Tsukishima had frowned telling him to _shut up,_ before they kissed again.

Kageyama’s already present frown deepens. His chest aches with the memory. A wave of heartbreak over takes him and he clenches his eyes close. That feeling gives way to anger, the way similar emotions often do. “What?” His voice is short as he answers the phone.

“Oh, um,” his face softens as he realizes it’s not Tsukishima on the other end, but his assistant. “Hi Kageyama, it’s Yachi.”

“Sorry. Hi, Yachi.”

“Hi! Um, Tsukishima wanted me to call and ask why you haven’t posted to instagram yet?” Her voice tapers off at the end, as if she’s afraid of his reaction.

Kageyama collects himself, it’s not Yachi’s fault his asshole of an ex boyfriend is the most irritating person in the world. “I was about to post a picture of breakfast.”

There’s a pause as Yachi relays the information. In the background his can hear the hushed timbre of Tsukishima’s voice. “He wants to know what your caption is?”

“Breakfast. Hashtag breakfast.”

Another pause, then there’s a sudden rush of movement on the other end of the phone. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m making the damn post what more do you want from me?”

“A little more than ‘Breakfast. Hashtag breakfast,’ for starters,” Tsukishima’s voice is nearing true annoyance.

Kageyama stands from the floor, “Well maybe I would have come up with something better if your assistant hadn’t called me and made me drop my cereal.” It’s a lie, but it’s one that feels good and childish to tell.

He can hear Tsukishima snort from the other side. “This is what you are going to do. Post your stupid breakfast picture. It’s Wednesday so that means you’re eating cereal with banana, right?”

Kageyama doesn’t respond, only stews in his hatred of how much his manager knows about him.

“Thought so. Caption it something like creature of habit or banana wednesday, I don’t care. Tag it with the team tag, olympic tag, and first post.”

“If you’re just going to tell me what to post why don’t you just do it for me.”

“I’m a busy man.”

Kageyama glares at the mess he’s made. “I gotta go.” He hangs up and makes his post with the revisions. Setting aside his phone he grabs a few dish towels which he throws over the milk puddle while he finds the broom.

The broom is one of those household items that never really finds its way back to its intended area. He checks the side of the fridge, the pantry, hall closet, guest bath, master bath. He comes back to the kitchen and taps his fingers against the counter in thought. His phone keeps chiming and he reaches to shut it up. There’s way more notifications flashing across his screen than he’s ever seen and it would bother him if the action of picking up his phone hadn’t reminded him where his broom is. He looks up at his ceiling. “Of fucking course,” Kageyama mumbles to nobody but himself.

If he listens closely he can hear music playing just over the din of the water pipes. It travels through the floorboards like it’s mocking him.

 **_Kageyama:_ ** _Dumbass - do you have my broom?_

A little bubble comes up on his chat log followed by a response

 **_Hinata:_ ** _Maybe. ;)_

 **_Kageyama:_ ** _Don’t bullshit me_

There’s a pause between messages this time.

 **_Hinata:_ ** _Maybe suck it up and stop avoiding me????? :p_

Kageyama gawks at his screen. He’s not _avoiding_ Hinata. Sure, he’s ignored the few text messages he’s received from him and he’s been very cautious about sitting out on his fire escape, but that doesn’t mean he’s _avoiding_ his neighbor. No, he’s just strategically planning some parts of his life to not coincide with seeing Hinata.

He frowns as he types. Honestly, he shouldn’t even be entertaining this.

 **_Kageyama:_ ** _I’m not avoiding anything._

 **_Hinata:_ ** _Whatever~~~_

 **_Hinata:_ ** _brooms up here when you want it._

Kageyama shoves his phone in the pocket of his sweats. If Hinata wants to play the brat Kageyama is more than happy to play the jerk right back. He throws his window open and stomps up the stairs to Hinata’s window. He doesn’t even bother to knock against the frame, just pushes it open and lets himself in.

Hinata is just emerging from the bedroom in a bath towel as Kageyama fights with the curtains that have been installed after his last visit. He seems to register Kageyama in phases; fear, surprise, then confusion . “What the hell are you doing!”

“You said to come get my broom!”

“Yeah, come _get_ it. Not break into my apartment.”

“Pft. You’re window was open!” Kageyama stands, bringing himself to his full height.

Hinata tucks his towel more securely around his waist. “So? You don’t just - just come in!  You could have at least knocked!”

“But you told me to come get my broom!”

Hinata slaps his face with both palms and drags them over his cheeks roughly. “I was _flirting_ with you. How much more obvious do I need to be?”

Kageyama can feel all his anger crash around him, dragging down his shoulders, and shorting out his brain. His face ignites with fire. “Flir - _flirting?”_

Hinata rolls his eyes. “Why are you freaking out? You’re the one who ran upstairs without a shirt on to interrupt your neighbor getting out of the shower.”

For the first time Kageyama notices that he is, in fact shirtless. As the reality settles over him he can practically feel Hinata’s eyes drinking him in. He crosses his arms over his chest grabbing at his shoulders. “Well why are you texting me from the shower?” This seems like a solid argument.

Hinata lets out an airy chuckle as he steps forward to his couch, turns his back to Kageyama, and sifts through the laundry there. He pulls out a shirt and pair of shorts. Kageyama swallows as he watches Hinata’s back muscles. He’s much more tone than Kageyama would have imagined. His scapulas adjust as he pulls a shirt over his head and lets it slide down his freckled back before he tugs the shorts on under the towel.

Damn his embarrassment, the blush from earlier deepens when Hinata turns to face him, dropping the towel.

Hinata smiles at him with something like pitiful amusement. “You embarrass easily.”

“Shut up.” Kageyama looks away. His eyes land on the bookshelf across the apartment from him. It’s full of pictures now, some of just Hinata, others with animals staring happily into the lens. Hinata moves towards the kitchen, the motion refocuses his attention. “You’re not limping,” Kageyama notes.

“No, but my knee is a little bruised.” Hinata opens his pantry and takes out Kageyama’s broom. He walks over to where Kageyama still stands in front of the window, his arms providing little decency for his chest. “Here,” Hinata holds out the broom.

Kageyama reaches out, his fingers close around the handle. He can feel Hinata staring at him and he raises eyes meet Hinata’s. “Thanks.”

Neither of them let go, stuck in a struggle for quiet power. “How much more straightforward do I need to be with you?”

The question takes Kageyama by surprise, he’d expected more jeering from Hinata. “What makes you think I’m-” he takes a moment and drags the word up from his throat, “- gay?”

Hinata’s smile cracks wide open, like he’s caught a fish that’s been circling his boat for hours. “If I worried about who was straight and who was gay, I’d spend a lot more nights alone.” His eyes blink and turn down for a moment before looking back up. “You’re subtle, don’t worry. I’m just that good.”

Kageyama looks away, losing whatever contest of wills they have been in.

“I could be wrong.” Hinata’s fist drops lower on the broom until it sits against Kageyama’s. “There’s a first time for everything.”  His pinky extends down, sweeping lightly over the back of Kageyama’s hand.

Kageyama swallows, it would be so easy. Tsukishima was his first and, by extension of that fact, his only romantic, or even sexual, experience. They’d been together through most of their college careers and then beyond. He’s not blind, over the years he has found other guys attractive, but it hadn’t mattered.

Now, though, maybe there is comfort to be found in another? The thought brings to mind the first time they’d... relapsed, for lack of a better word. _You taste like cigarettes,_ Tsukishima has said between breaths. Kageyama hadn’t denied it, he’d wanted Tsukishima to know, if only so his defiance could come to the forefront. He’d hoped the moment had meant something. He’d wanted it to be the glue that would piece them back together. Kageyama had wanted to much from that moment, but there was nothing to be returned

The next morning he had woken up just in time to see Tsukishima sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out the window, while he buttoned his shirt. He’d left without a word to him, but not before switching on the coffee pot in the hotel room. Kageyama had felt it that moment, the suffocation of loneliness he’d never experienced. He hadn’t even experienced it in the few weeks they’d been broken up before the wedding they had both been in attendance at. It’s as if he’d been convinced that the whole break-up wasn’t entirely real. Denial, isn’t that what that’s called?

Looking back on it now, he’d been naive to find meaning in that moment. Sex doesn’t always _mean_ something. No, of course not. He’d laid in bed until he could no longer hear the drip of the coffee and the smell had diffused across the room. As sad as he’d been that morning, he couldn’t help the rage he felt looking at the coffee pot, and the mug sitting beside it with sugar already spooned in, with two packets of creamer set to the side - just the way he likes it.

Why have meaningless sex only to follow it up with such a domestic act? Kageyama doesn’t keep coffee in this apartment anymore, the smell reminds him to clearly of the line that had been drawn that morning.

His eyes flick to Hinata, he’s relentlessly annoying, but he can clearly see himself shutting Hinata up by just closing the space between them. The satisfaction of physical connection is within his grasp, if only he moves to reach out and take it. It doesn’t have to be everlasting, just a moment of indulgence to fill the hole Tsukishima left. Even if it would only be a moment, and he wouldn’t make Hinata coffee afterwards - that’s for sure.

The thought of following through is almost vengeful. Kageyama can almost imagine the face Tsukishima would make, his lips tight and eyes wide. The same face he uses when he feels particularly scandalized. It’s in the basic instinct that makes him want to hurt Tsukishima, the way he’s been hurting all these months, that Kageyama realizes that sleeping with Hinata wouldn’t be a choice made for himself. More than that he can see the face Tsukishima would make after his initial shock, the one he wears during sponsorship meetings that’s cool and calculating. He can hear his voice, _Was it worth your career?_

He pulls the broom towards himself. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

It’s a simple question with less simple answers. “I just can’t. It’s work and -”

“What? You’re going to let work tell you how to live your personal life?”

Kageyama frowns and grits his teeth. “If anybody found out -”

“Nobody is looking.” Hinata takes a half step back, throwing his arms open. It’s a gesture to the emptiness of the apartment and the dim of the light coming through the curtain.

The gears turn in his head. Kageyama thinks back to the fleeting glimpses of skin he’s seen over the past few weeks. He remembers the hardness he’d felt under his clothes the last time he left and how he wondered if Hinata’s boundless energy had any practical applications.

“We could just be friends,” Hinata says when Kageyama doesn’t respond. His hand travels under his shirt, dragging it up his stomach to scratch. It’s confusing how candid the movement is despite the purposeful nature of Hinata’s word, “The best kind of friends.”

Kageyama’s mouth goes dries and breath comes out jaggedly between his lips. For a moment his mind goes blank, stuff like this doesn’t happen in real life - certainly not in _his_ life. It’s like a dream that he comes back from when the wires in his brain finally reconnect.

A fierce hunger rips through him. His moral high ground gives way under the force of burning sexuality because Hinata is right. There is nobody to stop him. Hinata doesn’t even know who he is, who could he tell that would care? He’s willing and, fuck, he’s hot. So fucking hot, Kageyama is amazed it’s taken him until just now to admit it. His muscles pulse with heat of his want -

His phone rings, but that alone won’t be enough to drag his focus away from the smirk spreading across Hinata’s face. Then he hears Yachi on his fire escape, “Kageyama! I brought your dry cleaning.” It’s like cold water has been dumped on him. His whole body constricts, his grip tightens on the handle of the broom.

“I - um - I have to go.”

“But, you’ll be back.” Hinata smirks and turns his back to him.

His whole face feels like it’s on fire. Finding Hinata attractive would be so much easier if he could skip his mouth. “Whatever!” And, not unlike the last two times he’s left Hinata’s apartment, Kageyama scrambles for the window, wishing suddenly he could melt through the floorboards.

Yachi screams when he emerges through his own window, winded for no real reason. “Kageyama! You - where did you -” Yachi’s eyes go wide, “- you’re not wearing a shirt!”

Kageyama throws the broom on the ground with a little more force than necessary and stomps off to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, how much longer do we have to wait for them to bang!? Ha! Wouldn't you like to know!? - Honestly I'd like to know too. 
> 
> Also how much longer is Kageyama going to be crying about Tsuki? - Literally the whole time. I got 60 pages written and he's still crying nor has he gotten it in with anybody. ¯\\_ಠ_ಠ_/¯
> 
> Why can't Hinata let this boy breathe! Just give him some room... he'll come to you, like a stray cat.
> 
> UGH! I'm so excited! I have this really bomb chapter coming up for any people out there looking forward to the train wreck Kageyama and Tsukishima are when together. I know there are KageTsuki shippers among me, root for them if you want. After all, in an alternate universe they win.
> 
> Anyway, no Hinata NEXT chapter, but there will be Oikawa and Kiyoko. 
> 
> For those of you that care, here's the song of the chapter: [The Pretender](https://open.spotify.com/track/3ZsjgLDSvusBgxGWrTAVto). I need to be better about keeping a playlist. I really just go looking for songs when posting.... though I do have a few stashed away for later chapters.
> 
> If fandom is life, then your comments are the blood in my veins, don't let me run dry!
> 
> Until next time! Yes, I'm talking to you.
> 
> Oh! I'm going to start posting chapter updates to tumblr, been a hot minute since I've been on, but I figured I should network? Come chat with me! [Kageyambae](kageyambae.tumblr.com). Like Kageyama but Bae combined... I thought it was clever. (´꒳`∗)


	5. Two Letters For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's set some plot shit up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo yo yo.
> 
> Welcome back to my questionable attempt at KageHina fanfiction. Hey, I know who I am. Lol.
> 
> This is a chapter full of delicious Hersey's kisses - kisses being plot. That's right! The final bite size morsels of plot set up!

Kageyama opens the door to his apartment and is greeted by Daichi. 

“Are you ready?” Daichi asks with a tilt of his head. He’s dressed professionally in a black  blazer and slacks. 

“Yeah.” Kageyama steps into the hall and locks the door behind himself. 

They take the elevator in silence. One thing to be appreciated about Daichi is that he never tries to goad Kageyama into conversation, which he’s grateful for. On the other hand, Kageyama has enough sense of social protocol to be awkward about the extended silence. “Thanks.” He glances at Daichi from the corner of his eye, his bodyguard stares up at the ceiling of the elevator. 

“For what?”  Daichi looks to him. 

Kageyama pushes his shoulders up. “Taking me to the dinner thing tonight.”

Daichi hums. “That’s my job.” 

He tenses beside Daichi, thinking that he’s just gone and somehow belittled the profession of the man charged with protecting him.

“I know what you mean though. We don’t spend as much time together as my other clients. Tsukishima said you were going to need escorts to daily practice Monday through Friday, though. So, I guess that’s changing.” Daichi throws him a disarming smile.

“I’m not your only client?” They step out of the elevator.

“Nope.” Daichi takes the lead and pushes out the front door. There’s a small crowd of people, Kageyama could count them if he wanted to. Their car waits at the curb, Daichi clears the way and Kageyama follows amidst the chattering fans. To his left there’s a flash and he can almost see the headline now,  _ Kageyama Tobio Ignores Fans.  _ With a slight groan he yanks Daichi’s jacket. “Hold up. Let me, uh, take some pictures.” 

The fans press closer their chatter growing in volume. Daichi steps in front of him. 

“Alright guys, back up. We’re going to take a few pictures. One group at a time. No shoving.” Daichi is firm, but not rude. He looks back to Kageyama, his eyebrow raised in question.

Kageyama nods, he’s ready. 

“You,” Daichi motions with a nod. The first few groups are easy, just kids who want to know easy things, like why volleyball or why Kageyama picked his position. The the fourth group is a little different. Two women step forward, both wearing outfits entirely coordinated to his team’s colors, complete with hair bands that showcase dangling volleyballs. Daichi watches them a moment longer than he has the rest of the crowd. 

“Oh geez! You’re  _ really  _ Kageyama Tobio!” One of the girl’s says.

He can’t help that his face heats up. He hates this kind of overly enthusiastic attention. “Yeah.”

She squeals. “We are your  _ biggest  _ fans! I’m Lynn and this is May.”

“Hi!” May practically shrieks. “We went to highschool together!”

“Oh. I don't recognize you,” Kageyama says back with increasing discomfort. Both girls shake with excitement. 

“Ladies,” Daichi’s voice warns. 

Lynn looks over her shoulder and rolls her eyes as she turns back. “Yeesh, scary.” They both flank him and hold their phones out for a selfie. Kageyama hates selfies he never knows what to do with his face. He tries to relax as they count down, right before the shutter they both turn to kiss him on the cheek. They step away giggling. Kageyama’s face crumbles into embarrassment and indignation, but Daichi moves in. 

“Alright, get out of here you two.” He steps between Kageyama and the crowd, backing him up towards the car. “Thank you, but Kageyama has a previous engagement he must attend to.”

Kageyama gets in the car and slumps down. He sets his hand over his face as Daichi closes the door behind himself. “Sorry about that. I should have realized they were a little too enthusiastic.”

“It’s okay. I’ve heard some of the other guys say that shit like that happens. At least it wasn’t worse, or something.”

“What would be worse?”

Kageyama immediately thinks of an incident that happened to one of his teammates recently. “Having my dick grabbed.”

When Daichi doesn’t respond Kageyama looks over to see him trying to stifle his laughter. “Sorry,” he wipes a tear from his eyes. “That would be worse, but the statement just caught me off guard.”

A small smirk pulls at his face. “Yeah, I get it.”

They arrive at the venue. It’s, of course, public, because while this is a team event it’s also a PR event. Kageyama sees the team’s PR people flitting around the bar in casual clothes. They are no doubt there to remind them not to drink too much or do something embarrassing. 

He goes to the bar and grabs a drink, unzipping his bomber jacket as he waits. When the bartender comes back with his beer Kageyama takes out his wallet to pay only to be waved off. “Those ladies at the end of the bar picked it up for you.”

Out of nowhere, Oikawa slides up next to him. “Don’t look so put off.” He raises his hand and waves towards the ladies at the end of the bar. “C'mon now. Free alcohol is at least something to be happy about.”

Kageyama glares at him. This guy just gets under his skin, it doesn’t matter how good his intentions may be. He picks at the label on the bottle. “I didn’t ask them to pick it up for me.”

Oikawa looks back to him, the smile reserved for the public dropping off his face. “Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you don’t get to have manners. Go say thank you, or at least acknowledge them.”

Kageyama looks over to them and raises the bottle before taking a huge gulp. “See that wasn’t so hard.”

“I wish they would just leave me the fuck alone.”

“Jesus. What crawled up your ass and died?”

Kageyama shrugs and takes another swig of his beer. “It’s just annoying.”

Oikawa leans against the bar. “Which part?”

“The women.”

“Ah,” Oikawa’s voice is soft. “Over enthusiastic fans?”

Kageyama looks at him from the corner of his eye. “That’s one way to put it.”

A group of women walk past them and Oikawa smiles, throwing them a little wave. “Think of them as tools. The more you use them, the better you get at handling them.”

“Is that why you’re so good with them?”

“No, that’s natural charm. Not everyone is blessed with it.”

Kageyama groans. “Shut up.”

“Seriously. They are your biggest defense against the media. Use them to their fullest and you’ll be bulletproof.”

“Even if I’m caught coming out of a club I shouldn’t be at?” It’s his attempt at something similar to a joke, but judging by Oikawa’s face he’s hit a nerve.

Oikawa gives him the evil eye, seeming to size Kageyama up for insult. “Not all of us can take a vow of celibacy just because some corporate fucks want to pay us way more than we deserve to toss balls in the air.”

Kageyama is not great at thinking on his feet, so instead he states the obvious. “I’m not celibate.”

“Right. Celibacy would be a choice. It’s different if nobody  _ wants  _ to fuck you.”

He exhales through his nose. There’s too many people around to really lay into him. After all, what the fuck does Oikawa know? Just because they share this one trait in common doesn’t mean they have to be friends. Kageyama hasn’t asked to be taken under his wing, or put in his shadow. Thanks, but no thanks. The really maddening part, though, isn’t that Oikawa assumes he knows him, it’s that he knows too much by just assuming.  

“Kageyama! Oikawa!” Their heads snap over to the set of tables the team is at. “Are we ordering or what?”

Oikawa pushes off the bar. “Let’s go. We’ve been talking too long as it is.”

Kageyama empties the bottle and leaves it on the bar.

 

* * *

 

 

Yachi nervously paces around his apartment, finding things to straighten up as she yammers on. “The car is going to arrive any minute now, Tsukishima.”

“Yes, Yachi. I know.” His voice isn’t irritated, just distracted. Kageyama catches the give away in the practiced softness he offers her. Though extremely capable, Yachi is fragile and would probably devolve in a hyperventilating mess if Tsukishima didn’t at least  _ try _ to speak softly. 

Kageyama remembers lying in bed one morning, a few months before they broke up, as Tsukishima reviewed applicants for  _ Assistant Manager _ . He’d told him to let Yachi down gently, because she would crumble under his demand for perfection. Nearly a year later and she was still there, apparently the ideal anxious offset to his overbearing personality. The memory draws his face tight and he refocuses on buttoning his shirt. Cream in color, chosen by Yachi via Tsukishima.

“Can you hurry up?” Tsukishima steps up to the doorway of the guest bathroom, where Kageyama is almost done getting ready, arms crossed. 

He frowns, “I’m trying. It’s not like anybody is going to care if we arrive late.”

“Maybe not, but the least you can do for Kiyoko is be punctual and try to show her a nice time tonight.” Tsukishima’s fingers tap against the inside of his forearm.

Kageyama stares forward. Even he’ll admit it’s a little less comical and more insulting how easily he keeps forgetting he has a  _ date  _ to this thing. “Fine. Can you get me a tie?”

Tsukishima’s face falls flat. “Yachi, grab us a few to choose from. Dresser, top left drawer.” There’s a thin line between professionalism and domesticity for them and Tsukishima has no reservations drawing. He doesn’t walk the line, he watches it from a distance while Kageyama paces along it wondering where it came from. 

“These should match Kiyoko’s dress,” Yachi comes back with a few options of which Tsukishima chooses a pink so light it’s barely there. Kageyama pops his collar and Tsukishima lays the tie around his neck and holds the opposing sides. For a moment he stares, the ease that made him move slipping away to self-consciousness. He let’s go. “Yachi, tie this. I’ll put the others away.”

She’s pushed forward with the force Tsukishima uses to barrel past her. “Sorry,” she mumbles. 

“It’s fine.” 

She ties a perfect windsor knot and Kageyama turns to look at himself in the mirror. “Thanks.” He fusses with his hair, picking pieces to rearrange even though poor Yachi spent an unbelievable amount of time filling it with product and sweeping her fingers through to give it the illusion of body and texture.

“I’ll grab your jacket.”

He stands back from the mirror and applies cologne. “I thought I was supposed to look  _ less  _ gay,” he mutters as he takes in the tie. His suit is a light gray and the cream button up is subtly patterned for texture..

“It’s an ovarian cancer benefit, not an awards show. Lighter colors will read better,” Tsukishima’s tired voice scolds as he passes the bathroom. “Let’s go. The car is here.”

Daichi straightens up next to the door and gives him a small wave. “Hi.”

Kageyama stares, “Were you standing there the whole time?”

“Just the last few minutes.”

“He's your bodyguard.” Tsukishima grabs Kageyama’s phone from the counter and unlocks it with the password. “And he’s signed a nondisclosure.”

“Which I take very seriously,” Daichi interjects, his voice is earnest.

“Thanks, I guess.” From the corner of his eye Kageyama sees Tsukishima framing him for a photo. “What are you doing?”

“Instagram. Button your cufflinks or something.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes, but raises his wrist to eye level and slips the button through the eyelet. “Did you get it?” He takes a step towards the door.

“Of course. I’m posting it now.”

The whole party moves towards the door. They cram into the elevator, Kageyama at the back and Daichi at the front.

“Yachi,” Tsukishima breathes out her name.

“Yes?”

“You can go home from here. I’m going to stay with Kageyama for now.”

She looks troubled, “Are you sure? I don’t mind staying.”

“Yes.” His voice is stern and Kageyama watches him fix Yachi with an unwavering gaze.

She twiddles her thumbs a moment longer. “Okay.” Her bottom lip pinches between her teeth. 

Her notable anxiety makes Tsukishima sigh as he withdraws his phone from his pocket. “You’ve worked hard today. Go home.”

Yachi perks up. “Okay.” She smiles. “I’ll wait a moment in the foyer to let the crowd clear.” 

Exiting the building is a bit of an ordeal. The charity event and it’s guest list have been heavily publicized, yes, but Kageyama is in no way prepared for the onslaught of reporters outside his apartment. He thought the amount of people just the other night had been a lot but, it’s nothing compared to this.

“What is this?” He hisses in Tsukishima’s direction. 

“Just keep moving and stay behind me,” Daichi says taking the lead.

They make it to the car without incident, Kageyama and Tsukishima in the back cab and Dachi in the front with the driver. “Seriously, what the fuck was that? There have never been that many reporters at once. Or at my  _ apartment  _ period.”

Tsukishima is already buried in his tablet, always working on the next step even when the present moment calls for his attention much more loudly. “I think I underestimated how popular Kiyoko is.”

“You haven’t even told me who she is,” Kageyama mutters as he stares out the window. 

“She’s a daytime television star.” Tsukishima adjusts his glasses to sit further up the bridge of his nose. “She recently landed a leading role in a large movie franchise which made her more popular than she already was.”

Kageyama huffs as they come to a stop. They haven't even left the neighborhood yet and he wants to just go back to his apartment and do anything  _ but  _ this. Hell, he’d even go up the stairs and subject himself to an evening of Hinata. He imagines the whole evening would be of him enduring an endless barrage of teasing, something like,  _ I knew you’d come back.  _ But, how mad could he really be? They both knew he would, Hinata had said as much.

Even now, sitting in the town car they’ve rented for the evening, his mind replays the memory of Hinata in his towel. It’s a sight he hadn’t appreciated enough at the time. As he speculates, his fight with Oikawa comes to mind. Maybe there was something to what he’d saying, Kageyama’s personal life didn’t have to stop because of his career. He could be discreet. He could be anything if it meant doing something other than trying to remember what he use to do with his free time before Tsukishima dumped him.

Beside him Tsukishima nudges him with his shoulder. 

“What?”

“Are you listening to me?”

Kageyama glances around the car, “No. Not really.”

“Typical.” Tsukishima angrily fingers his tablet. “As I was saying - this is a really important social event for both you and Kiyoko. I need you to appear as a couple.”

Despite knowing how serious the situation is Kageyama can’t help but sigh with annoyance. 

“I’m not kidding Kageyama. I need you to hold hands for the camera. Take pictures with your phone, I’m sure she’ll be doing the same. Post them to social media on the way home. The goal is to make people think there’s some tender love affair going on between you two. When people ask if you’re a couple just reply that Kiyoko is a very special person and you’re lucky to be spending time with her. I’m sure Kuroo has asked her to do the same thing.”

_ Kuroo.  _ The name strikes Kageyama as familiar, but there’s no time to place it as they pull into a private garage. On the first floor the car comes to a stop near the elevators. The scene seems to be closer to an illegal transaction than a friendly pick up. “Why aren’t there any cameras?”

“She lives in a secure building. Much like the ones I keep trying to get you to consider.” Tsukishima puts his tablet away and picks up his bag. 

“I like my apartment,” hu mumbles because he knows Tsukishima isn’t listening.

They exit the back of the car when Daichi and the driver get their doors. A few moments later the elevator opens and out steps a woman that Kageyama can only assume is Kiyoko. Objectively, she’s probably one of the most attractive people he’s ever met, bar none. Behind her is a man with hair like a bird’s nest, most likely her manager.  
“Kuroo,” Tsukishima confirms. He steps forward and extends his hand. “Thank you for helping us on such short notice.” Something about the exchange throws him. It’s professional but, the tiny pull and Kuroo’s lips has him tilted.

“Anything for you, Tsuki-.” It’s at that moment Kageyama’s utter agitation is noted. Kuroo clears his throat, “-shima.Tsukishima.” 

Kageyama frowns at the exchange. It’s over friendly. He’d called him Tsuki - nobody but Kageyama  _ calls him Tsuki. _

“Hello.”

His head snaps to Kiyoko, her voice is so soft. “Sorry. Hi.” He extends his hand. “Kageyama.”

“Kiyoko. Thank you for escorting me tonight.” Kiyoko pushes a purposeful stray piece of hair behind her ear, her hair is otherwise swept back in an updo. 

Yachi was right, Kageyama’s tie color does match Kiyoko’s outfit. It’s a tight dress that hits right above her knees with three-quarter sleeves. She turns to whisper to Kuroo, revealing the plunging drop back. 

“Alright,” Kuroo claps his hands. “You kids have fun.” He shoos them towards the car.

Kageyama steps towards Tsukishima. “You’re not coming with us?”

“I can’t hold your hand through this.”

“Then why did you come at all?” He glances behind Tsukishima to Kuroo. He nods to Kageyama and leans against a car. It clicks into place for him. “You’re kidding me.”

Immediately, Tsukishima rubs his forehead. “Kageyama we don’t have time for this. You’re running late as is.”

Panic rises in him, almost as quickly as anger.  _ This isn’t fucking happening!  _ “No. Fuck this. I’m going home.”

“Don’t be so loud,” Tsukishima hisses. “You’re causing a scene. You  _ are  _ going. This is important.”

“I’m causing a scene?” Kageyama drops his volume. “You’re the one that used me as a ride to your  _ date.” _

Tsukishima brings himself to his full height. “I have business with Kuroo regardless of what you  _ think _ our relationship is. You and Kiyoko are in this together, so we are too. Don’t make this into more than it has to be.”

Kageyama opens his mouth to speak, he isn’t sure what’s about to come out. He only knows that it’s mean and nasty. Kiyoko coughing into her hand stops him. He turns to her noting that she and everyone in the garage now seem uncomfortable. 

“Maybe we should go?” She offers her words in a soft voice that makes Kageyama feel like he’s five years old. It takes the fight out of him.

* * *

 

The car ride is depressingly quiet. Kiyoko sits opposite of him, chin in her palm, and left leg crossed over right as she stares out the window. She’s the epitome of grace and elegance. Kageyama on the other hand feels like he’s ripping at the seams just trying to hold himself together. 

The partition lowers and Daichi pokes his head back. “We’re a few miles out. I’ll exit the car first and open the door for you two. I’ll follow you at a distance of about twelve feet through the press area and keep tabs on you guys throughout the night.”

“Thank you,” Kiyoko smiles at him. Her statement doubles as a dismissal and the partition goes back up. 

Kageyama can feel her attention on him. Her gaze is intense, like a whole weight settling over his body. She commands respect, though you’d never know by her tone of voice, soft and melodic. “I have a girlfriend.”

The statement catches Kageyama off guard. This isn’t a topic he has a response for. Kiyoko seems unphased by his silence.

“I’m doing this for her.” Her eyes level with Kageyama’s. “She texted me a little while ago that she got off from work early. She’s probably at home with her new kitten. She wants me to come by after we’re done tonight. To celebrate our success.”

Kageyama glances away from her, “Why are you telling me this?”

“I’m telling you because we’re doing this for others just as much as we are doing it for our careers. My girlfriend is younger than me. Just out of college. I’m her first real relationship, it’s very new to her. It’s what makes her so cute, but her family doesn’t know she’s gay.”

Kiyoko pauses, gathering her thoughts. “If the rumors about me aren’t settled the media might start digging into my personal life. If they do that, they could find her. They might expose her to the whole country, not just her family. I know the evening started off tense, but we have a show to put on and it’s not just a performance for ourselves.”

Kageyama feels himself pull together just a little bit. “I’m not a very friendly guy.”

“You don’t have to be. Just take my hand when I offer it to you. Smile back at me when I look at you. I’ll do all the work, it’s fine for you to be a little stoic, just make sure to be attentive. If you look bored they won’t buy it. They’re going to take note of us being together but, as long as you play your part right, at the end of the night I’m the only one they’ll care about.”

“That takes some of the pressure off.”

She smiles at him, small but reassuring. The car comes to a stop and Daichi opens the door. Kageyama steps out first, the flash of the cameras blinding him for a moment before he turns back to offer Kiyoko his hand. She steps out and her whole energy has changed. Where before she had been quiet and reserved, she now exudes a playful maturity that was otherwise absent while they were alone. 

Kageyama follows her body language and lets her take the lead. She gently tugs him down the row of photographers. Her fingers come together with his easily, and Kiyoko smiles like a schoolgirl with a crush. The cameras eat it up. They stop for a few interviews, Kiyoko puts both hands on his shoulder and leans into him. His hand slips around her waist and Kageyama can’t help but think they must look incredibly straight. 

“Are you two a couple?” The interviewer asks.

They look at each other and Kiyoko nods to him. “We’re just friends who are lucky enough to be spending time together.”

They answer the same question a few more time before finally making it into the venue. “Good job,” she whispers. “Now we just have to get through the rest of the evening.”

 

* * *

 

It’s after dinner that Kageyama finds himself alone. He stands against one of the walls sipping a glass of champagne. Kiyoko has excused herself to the restroom, but if he had to guess she probably needs a break from all the flirting just as much as he does. 

From the crowd, Oikawa breaks through with a girl on his arm, eyeing him with a friendly smirk. He seems to have either forgotten or gotten over their exchange at the bar. Oikawa extends his hand as he approaches. “Kageyama,” they shake. “This is Sakura, my gorgeous date for this lovely evening.”

She laughs, “If you keep saying things like that your evening might just get a little lovelier.”

“I  _ might _ just take you up on that.” Oikawa’s act is flawless and after the exhausting evening Kageyama has had putting on his own farce, he almost admires it. “Would you mind grabbing us another round of drinks.”

“Sure thing,” Sakura steps away, refusing to let go of Oikawa’s hand until they physically can’t hold on to each other any longer. 

“Hurry back.”

“I will~”

Oikawa turns back to him, the easy grin dropping from his face into something that reflects the same exhaustion Kageyama holds. 

“You might have to actually go home with her.”

For a moment Oikawa regards him with a contemplative stare. “You made a joke.”

Kageyama raises his champagne flute to his lips. “Not on purpose.”

“Hmm.” Oikawa leans against the wall next to Kageyama. “I won’t go home with her. She’s already kind of tipsy, by the time we leave she’ll probably be stumbling. In which case I can just take her to her place and play the good guy card by insisting I won’t take advantage of her.”

“What if she’s not?”

Oikawa shrugs. “Guess I’ll have to sleep with her.”

Kageyama chokes on his champagne.

“What?” Oikawa glances at him from the corner of his eye. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You mean -” Kageyama pauses, his train of thought catching up with his sensibility. “You’ve... with women?”

Oikawa appears unphased. “Grow up. It’s not unheard of.” After a moment Oikawa’s eyes go wide. “No shit. You’ve never been with one.”

“No!” Kageyama sounds insulted. His eyes drop down to his glass “I wouldn’t be able to even if I tried.”

“Pft. I never imagined you’d be more gay than me. Well, whatever. Who’s your date?”

“Oh, Kiyoko.”

Oikawa cocks his head to the side, “The TV star?” 

Kageyama nods.

“I thought she looked familiar. How did you manage to get her to come to this?”

Kageyama thinks back to the garage. His face pulls into a scowl. “Our managers are fucking.”

“Really?” Oikawa raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t your manager your -”

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine. Fair warning though, she seems pretty into you. What are you going to do if she wants to go home with you?”

“I don’t think that will be a problem. We’re, uh -” Kageyama chooses his phrasing carefully as to not give too much away. “We’re mutually beneficial.”

Oikawa snorts. “Good luck.”

“What do you mean?”

“My date is some radio personality I met last week. Probably good for a handful of these events and then I can just wash my hands of her. She won’t go crazy over it because it will damage what little reputation she thinks she has and if I manage to not sleep with her she’ll still tell people I did anyway.  She’s one of many girls saying they’ve been with me. Everyone want to fuck an Olympian,” Oikawa muses, more to himself than Kageyama. “You have one. If there’s any chink in your armour it’ll expose you both. If one of you falls, you both fall.”

Kageyama’s fingers flex around the stem of his glass. He wants to say that Oikawa is wrong, but he knows there’s an inkling of truth to it because Kiyoko had alluded to some of the same points earlier. “You’re a real asshole. You know that?”

“Tell me more things about myself that I don’t already know.” Sakura emerges from the crowd and the facade slips easily back in place.

“Sakura! Your drink is already half gone!” Oikawa puts an arm around her. “We have to get you another one!”

“I agree!” Sakura cheers, looking up at Oikawa with excitement.

Oikawa pulls her away from the wall, “Bye!”

“Who was that?” Kiyoko’s voice startles him.

“Don’t worry about him. If you’re lucky, you’ll never have the displeasure of having a conversation.”

She nods knowingly at him. “Ex?”

“No!” Kageyama grimaces. “Don’t joke.”

Kiyoko laughs genuinely. “We’re going to be working together closely moving forward. It’s okay to talk about these things. Kuroo said to learn personal details in case I need them later.”

Her statement makes Kageyama tense. “Sounds like a fucking snake.” After a moment he mumbles, “Probably perfect for Tsukishima.” He throws back the rest of his glass. 

“I don’t see it that way. I want to have a reason to be just as invested in retaining your privacy as I do my own.”

“I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“That’s okay. There’s always next time. I’m sure we’ll see each other in a few days. Need to keep up appearances after all.”

Kageyama looks at his watch, “It’s ending soon. Let’s get out of here.”

Kiyoko takes his hand, “Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know.... Editing this was so hard because this is like the final introduction of plot and character and I just want people to bang and cry. That the fun stuff and if that's not why you're here, why are you here at all???? Just kidding please stay and stroke my ego... the opportunity to innuendo is too obvious so I'm going to leave it alone.
> 
> Uh, next chapter will be in August. I participate in a writing competition for the KuroFai fandom every year. Love that fandom I've been in it for almost 10 years... holy shit. A decade of fandom. Anyway for the competition the fic has to be posted in it's entirety on - hold up gotta check my calendar - August 25th. I have all my writing time blocked out in my calendar and I'm making more progress than I thought but, I have a tendency to let plots get away from me. Honestly, most people write a 5k word fic for this but mine are consistently over over 15k. 
> 
> Song this week is [FU - Miley Cyrus](https://open.spotify.com/track/6dDIOU6AqgLkrjFNPgvKY6).
> 
> Next time - Midnight rendezvous?????? Kissing????? Crying????? All of the ABOVE???????????? 
> 
> Like Christina says "Say something, I'm giving up on you, please comment on my fanfiction." Pretty sure that's the line.
> 
> Until next time, stay frosty.
> 
> PS: I DID actually check my calendar.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering where this fic is set - lol.  
> If you're wondering why everyone's _technical_ last name is their first name - lmfao.
> 
> You may have noticed, this fic is set for twenty chapters, that's a pretty conservative estimate. I currently have twelve chapters, but feel as though the story is only a third written. Chapters will likely be short, only because that's how the story is written. I will post when I feel like it - I don't want to post too much and fall behind on the back end. 
> 
> Also, I usally do a song a chapter and make a playlist - so here's the first one: [Un-break My Heart - Toni Braxton](https://open.spotify.com/track/5Ihd9HrPvOADyVoonH9ZjB). Kageyama is a sad boy.
> 
> I don't have other Haikyuu works _but_ I do have an archive full of JearMin and KuroFai - proceed with caution.
> 
> Drop a line to keep this author alive.


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